


now I'm one step closer (to being two steps far from you)

by merthurxmalec



Series: I'd rather be anywhere, anywhere but here [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Trailer, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Gen, I'm Sorry, Light Swearing, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, because come on that trailer was an angst fic no one wanted, idk how to tag this, this is just an angst fest tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merthurxmalec/pseuds/merthurxmalec
Summary: He had walked into the compound, his eyes scanning frantically for brown curls and chocolate eyes.For home.Home was not a concept available to him, not anymore.~Steve Rogers is on Earth wishing for a home that doesn't exist anymore.Tony Stark is in Space, not knowing if he is ever going to get home.They both don't know how to get back the home they lost.





	now I'm one step closer (to being two steps far from you)

**Author's Note:**

> So, that trailer amiright? 
> 
> As usual this isn't beta'd, barely even proof-read tbh. 
> 
> This is for my amazing friend and Shadowhunters/Marvel/everything buddy, who I would not have finished this fic without. Happy belated birthday, W? 
> 
> (title is from One Direction's 'Infinity', which is such a stevetony song 110% recommend).

Steve didn’t recognise the kid in the photo.

 

Steve made it his business to know everyone who was… lost (dead, his brain supplied him with – dead because of you), everyone who lost their life as casualty in a game most of them didn’t even know they were pawns of. It is what he has been doing the last couple of months, since Thanos took away he holds hear with the snap of his fingers. Steve Rogers landed in the vast expanse of land in front of a building he once called home, and wished to every higher power out there that that feeling would still exist. He had gone so long without feeling it, had spent so many nights staring at an ancient relic in his hands and wishing his home would come to him.

 

He never did.

 

Now, though, Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the huge glass door he had walked in and out of a hundred times. Somehow, in the ten hours it took for them to get back from Wakanda, the ride spent in miserable silence save for a few sniffles and sobs everyone graciously pretended they didn’t hear, Steve had managed to convince himself that the universe had left something for him to go back to.

 

He had walked into the compound, his eyes scanning frantically for brown curls and chocolate eyes.

 

For home.

 

It was only Natasha’s grounding touch on his arm that made him crash into reality. Since then, he immersed himself in it. He visited every home, every wife and mother, every husband and father – everyone who had put their loved one to bed at night and found a pile of ash to greet them in the morning.

 

It was only after he had apologised to every partner, had hung his head in shame as he let the sobs of every parent wash over him, sprinkle salt on a wound he knew would never heal, did he ask FRIDAY for the list of people he knew, the people the Avengers knew.

 

Sam and Bucky had appeared first, their pictures causing Steve to take a physical step back. Steve wanted to tear his eyes away from their impassive faces, from the giant red letters spelling out MISSING at the bottom, next to their name. He couldn’t, though. He deserves this.

 

One by one, pictures began sliding past him, every picture feeling like a slap across his face.

 

King T’Challa.

 

Wanda Maximoff.

 

Vision.

 

Nick Fury.

 

Maria Hill.

 

Sharon Carter.

 

Laura Barton.

 

Tony Stark.

(And didn’t that one just rip out a chunk of his heart?)

 

Scott Lang.

 

Princess Shuri.

 

And then, Peter Parker.

 

Steve’s didn’t recognise him.

 

Rhodey and Pepper did, however, because that was when Pepper broke down.

 

Steve had always admired Pepper, always respected the strength she displayed, the love she gave. She hadn’t broken down when she welcomed the (Rogue) Avengers back into the compound, hadn’t shed a tear when she had hugged Steve and told him about the man they both loved never making it back home.

 

(Because she knew, of course she knew.)

 

Even when Tony’s picture had come up on the list of obituaries, Pepper did not lose her composure, her emotions betrayed only by the way her eyes closed and her hands shook. But this Peter Parker? He broke the well she had so strongly kept shut.

 

Rhodey had gone over and wrapped his arms around her, the grief on his face multiplying ten fold. At that moment, they were in their own little world, their unit solidifying as they remained separate from the rest of the world, united by a grief they seemed to share. Their little cocoon of grief looked almost sacred to Steve, as if he was trespassing into something simply by standing there.

 

It was Natasha who finally broke the silence, looking up from the spot she had commandeered with Clint, her hands still gripping Clint’s even as she spoke.

 

‘Who is he?”

 

It was a simple question, one they were all thinking, but it seemed to have rendered Pepper and Rhodey speechless. They only stared at them all, gobsmacked, their eyes bright and shiny and distant.

 

It was Pepper who had recovered first.

 

“That is Peter,” she said, her voice soft with affection and a vulnerability Steve had never heard from her in all the years he had known her. Looking at her now, Steve realised that Pepper Potts was not unbreakable.

 

“He is... was…” and it was like the word broke the well again.

 

“Peter is a kid,” Rhodey continued, his voice hard on the “is”, as if challenging argument. Rhodey typed something into the computer, because then the room was flooded with pictures – all of the of Tony with this kid. Pictures of them happily tweaking away at something in the lab, of them out in the park with ice creams, of them in matching Christmas jumpers hanging Ironman and Spiderman ornaments on the tree. “He was Tony’s kid.”

 

“Not biologically,” he continued quickly as Bruce opened his mouth to speak, “though sometimes you could never even tell. I was halfway convinced you and Tony somehow managed to procreate.”

 

The last bit was said directly at Steve, a hint of smile etched on Rhodey’s face for the first time since they all landed in Wakanda, and Steve felt an involuntary laugh rise out of him.

 

“Stubborn genius with a hero complex?”

 

Rhodey laughs, and the sound echoes through the solemn room. Steve thinks that if he squeezes his eyes shit and tries really, really hard, he can almost pretend this is home.

 

“Made half of Tony’s hair go grey, with all the dangerous situations the kid managed to get himself into.”

 

It dawned on Steve very suddenly. “He is Spiderman, isn’t he? From Germany?”                    

 

Rhodey’s gaze hardens.

 

“Yes, he is, and before you start blaming Tony you need to know that Tony was trying to protect him. All Tony every wanted to do was protect him.”

 

Rhodey’s eyes seeked challenge, but Steve couldn’t find any within himself. He glanced at the pictures again, his gaze settling on the one closest to him – Tony and Peter entangled on the couch, Tony’s fingers carding through a half-asleep Peter’s hair. Steve had eyes, and that is all he needed in order to know that that kid was Tony’s whole world.

 

There were so many things Steve wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask. The why, the what, the how – how did this kid erase the scars Steve had no doubt etched into Tony’s heart, both figuratively and literally? Where was this kid now?”

 

“When was he last seen?” Steve asked in the end.

 

It was Pepper who answered.

 

“With Tony. The last time he was seen was going up to the spaceship, moments before Tony.”

 

Natasha, Thor, Bruce and Steve all exchanged a look.

 

“We have to find Tony.”

 

* * *

 

Floating through gravity isn’t exactly a picnic…

 

To be fair, Tony never thought it was. Sure, when he was a kid he had the same phase as everyone else, had the same fascination with stars. Stars were stars after all, warm and bright and shiny, and Tony loved them. It was a fleeting phase though, sneered out of him the day Ty Stone found his astronomy set in boarding school and set it on fire in the field. He had looked at the stars with nostalgia since then, but for the most part he had equated it with humiliation.

 

Then he had flown into space, watched his way home close beneath him and knew that he would have to take his last breaths amongst the stars. He hadn’t, of course, but the damage had been done. Now, he equated the stars with death.

 

It had gotten better, of course. A bright eyed kid had swung his way into his life, had taken hold of his hand and led him to the roof. Had told him stories and had trusted him with his fears. After that, Tony had equated stars with home; the hope he had seen shining in brown eyes.

 

Now though, Tony isn’t sure what he will see. He knows he will die in a blanket of stars, knows that he will fall deeper into this abyss every day. He knows that as this happens, he will be thinking only of three people.

 

He grabs the helmet with trembling fingers, looks into the eye slits of the mask and thinks of all he has done, all he has destroyed, all he has achieved. He looks into the faint glow of the slits now, and records his first message.

 

“Hey Ms Potts,” he says, his mouth nearly forming “Mrs Stark”. He always knew it wasn’t supposed to be. “If you get this recording, don’t feel bad about this.” He inhales a deep breath. “Part of the journey is the end.” And isn’t that true… has that not always, always, been true? “Just for the record being adrift in space with zero promise of rescue is more fun than it sounds. Food and water ran out…” he mentally calculates how long the gnawing pain has been present in his stomach, “four days ago. Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning. Then it’ll be it.” He knows this, knows he is going to die. “When I drift off, I will dream out you. It’s always you.”

 

(It isn’t a lie, he knows it isn’t. But he knows Pepper will know the full truth, as well).

 

He records the next two messages, and when the light in the helmet finally gives off, he tries not to think of the symbolism.

 

* * *

 

When the videos turn up on FRIDAY’s database, Steve doesn’t know what to think.

 

If this was the old Steve Rogers – the Steve who was Captain America – he would have been ecstatic. Captain America was a symbol of hope, and for that Steve hope was a thing to be cherished, however miniscule. Hope had drove him on every day, had told him what that happiness was within grasp as long as he was willing to fight for it.

 

Steve isn’t Captain America anymore, though.

 

Now, he is just Steve. This Steve is the man out of his time. The soldier who never stopped fighting. The hero who has lost everything.

 

This Steve Rogers does not believe in hope. Not anymore.

 

He sits with his fingers hovering over the files FRIDAY gave him access to for a long time, trying to will himself into pressing play.

 

The first one was for Pepper, and Steve had wrapped his arms around her as she had listened to it, her hands clutching at skirt as her mascara ran down her face, a small black taint on the pristine white colour. Steve doesn’t know what Tony said to her, doesn’t feel like he has to.

 

He does not need to be a genius to know that these videos contain Tony Stark’s final goodbye.

 

The next one was for Peter, and it broke Steve’s heart to think of Tony out there somewhere, alone, recording a message for a kid he most probably saw die.

 

The third one is for Steve.

 

That had made him stop, his voice asking FRIDAY to double check the recipient, although he doesn’t remember forming the words. Because in what universe would Tony Stark waste his final words on a man who did nothing but give him pain?

 

Steve’s hands clutched the StarkPad, his fingers making little cracks on the screen. He stares at it for a while, not knowing what to do.

 

In the end, he becomes a leader.

 

“Rocket, Bruce – see if you can try and track where these videos were sent from. There has to be something there we can use to pinpoint a location.”

 

Two weeks later, he knows everyone has given up hope. They won’t say it, not in front of Steve, but they all think he is dead.

 

 _“Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning,”_ Tony had said, two weeks ago.

 

So, yes, everyone has given up hope,

 

Steve, though? Steve won’t admit it, doesn’t want to. Steve Rogers is a stubborn bastard, and he won’t stand by and do nothing. However long it takes.

 

And so he keeps them working.

 

Bruce and Rocket still try to pinpoint a location.

 

Thor still flies off to space to navigate the universe, find anything to bring home, any resemblance of hope.

 

Steve is still trying to make himself listen to the video.

 

Two weeks ago, Steve had thrown the tablet into the depths of his cupboard and left it there, instead throwing himself into finding Tony.

 

 _He can tell me himself,_ he thought. _He can tell me himself because we will find him._

Captain America is strong enough to take on the weight of his grief.

 

Steve Rogers isn’t.

 

It wasn’t until last night that he let himself think of the message again.

 

“This is going to work, Steve,” Natasha has said, her normally expression-less eyes betraying the sadness he knows is embedded deep in her heart.

 

“I know,” Steve says with honest sincerity, “because I don’t know what I am going to do if it doesn’t.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Mr Stark,” he hears a voice say, and he is snapped back into consciousness.

 

“You’re not real,” he breathes out with difficulty, still staring at the ghost of the boy in front of him with bright eyes and a big smile.

_You’re not real because you’re dead. I saw you die. You died in my arms._

“I am as real as the stars in the sky, Mr Stark,” he says in a whisper. “I’m always real to you.”

 

Tony’s hands reach up involuntarily to cup his cheeks, feel the soft skin as he caresses his way upwards, his hands finally settling in the soft brown curls he has run his fingers through a thousand times.

 

He will never get to do it again.

 

“Pete,” he says, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Peter.”

 

“I’m here, Mr Stark. Don’t worry, it won’t be long now.”

 

“Will you stay with me as I go?” Tony whispered.

 

Peter said nothing, reached down to pull Tony’s head up to his chest, his smile buried in Tony’s greasy hair.

 

“Always.”

 

When the bright light shone from outside, Tony didn’t even notice.

 

* * *

 

Steve pressed play.

 

 _“Hey, Capsicle,”_ Tony started off with, his voice trembling. _“By now you know what this is. Steve – there is so much I wish I got to say to you…”_

“Steve? Steve!” Bruce’s voice came from behind him, panting. “He’s here, Steve. He’s back.”

 

And he was.

 

Tony, skinny and pale and shivering, his feet wobbling even as he was being held upright by Rhodey and Natasha - but alive.

 

He was alive, and that is all Steve needed to know before he crashed himself into Tony’s chest.

 

* * *

 

 

Afterwards, after Tony had been washed and fed, after he had reluctantly told them what had happened on his end of the fight, about how close they were, about Strange and the others turning to dust, about Peter. After Carol (who had found Tony wandering aimlessly across the galaxy as she made her way to Earth on Nick Fury’s call) had told them there is a way to bring everyone back, Steve had whispered a forbidden thought out loud:

 

“What if we lose?”

 

For the first time in forever, Tony really looked at him.

 

“Then we’ll do that together, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... I'm sorry? 
> 
> I'm about 1/4 way through the second part of this, so there will be another one up soon hopefully! Maybe we will actually get to hear what Tony said to Steve ;) 
> 
> scream at me on Tumblr: starsinourinfinities


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